Standard Disclaimer. I do not own FFX or the characters in it. They are owned by Square-Enix. I do own this story, and my original characters. The title of this chapter is from a song written by Bob Seger, and performed at different times by Bette Midler and by Bob Seger. For this chapter, the Bette Midler version is probably the more appropriate.

He closed his eye and laced his fingers behind his head. It was so easy to conjure up the sound of her voice. Easier still to recall the feel of her sweet body sleeping in his arms that first time. He had heard Wakka talking earlier, wondering if it would help Rikku if she just screamed at the lightning, the way Tidus had screamed in Kilika. I would scream, too, if I thought it would make the pain go away.

…Zanarkand…five years ago

The walk home refreshed her. This was the bad news. Getting up in the morning in time to get everything done and still get to work by one was going to be a real pain. She hated mornings.
When they reached her building, Auron came in with her. He had promised, after all. Her apartment was at the end of the hall, on the twentieth floor. High enough to have a good, but not great, view. The price went up as the floors did, and she had been more interested in space than view when she bought the place five years previously.
Upon arriving at her own door, she blurted out, "Look, you've come this far, you might as well come in." Not the most gracious invitation, but, at past midnight, graciousness was in very short supply. He raised a brow quizzically, but then inclined his head in assent. She unlocked the door and ushered him inside.

The room in front of him was spacious, and clearly served as a living room. The windows opposite held a view of the city, filled with starlight. There were doors to the left, clearly leading to the rest of the apartment, although one open doorway was next to the entryway, the kitchen, it seemed. Mercy hung her jacket on a rack beside the front door. "I'm going to make tea. Want some?" He didn't want to put her to any trouble, so he agreed. He stood and looked out the windows, fascinated by the sparkling view of the city. He realized that he was much warmer here than he had been outside, so he unbuckled the belt at his waist and removed his coat. He laid it over the end of the couch. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then he unbuckled the bracer on his left arm, and placed it on a chair, along with his glove. He carefully set his glasses on the table. He'd left the collar at home. It had become a nuisance. He went to the kitchen to see if he could 'help'.

When he came through the doorway into the kitchen, Mercy thought he looked good enough to eat. Literally. The more of him I see, the better he looks. The water boiled. Why did I suggest tea? I'm too hot already. The sudden grin on his face suggested that he was aware of it, too, damn him. She poured the water into the teapot. "Please carry the tray into the living room. Just put it down on the table in front of the sofa." She watched him walk ahead of her toward the living room. The back view is well worth watching. Mmm, gorgeous.

Auron put the tray on the table, and went to examine the decorations on the walls behind the couch while Mercy finished with the tea. He was astonished to see the paintings, one a fine picture of two coeurls, one realistically detailed and one fantastic coeurl, black with crimson whiskers and tail, and a beautifully drawn map of Spira, labeled in nearly illegible Old Guado script, in addition to the display of the blades she had inherited from her grandmother. Where had that map come from? He turned to examine the blades more closely. "May I?" He would never touch them without her permission.
"Please do."
Respectfully, he lifted the long dagger from the wall and inspected it carefully. It was well cared for, but he could also judge that it was not just decorative. Someone, at least, did practice with it regularly. "They are beautiful weapons."
"Thank you. The tea is ready."
She had only turned the lights on partway, so the room was lit more by the moonlight and starlight from the windows than from within. Thanks to his coat, part of the sofa was not available, so she sat in the middle of the cushions. When the tea had finished steeping, he sat near her, close enough to touch, if either of them wanted. She busied herself with the tea, calm on the surface, confused within. She turned on the cushions to face him, while holding the mug of tea in front of her with both hands, like a shield. They could talk until she decided what to do. We could just go to bed, her eyes swept over him. I want him enough. Hell, who wouldn't? But it's just so empty in the morning. It's not worth it anymore. And there might be something more here, if we wait for it. Maybe. I think he might accept me as I am. Maybe. Big maybe.

He turned to face her, rested his arm along the back of the couch, picked up his mug to drink, turned so he could face her. "What happened to your parents?"

Why is it we never seem to ask each other easy questions? "One day, my parents went out into the harbor for a pleasure cruise. It was supposed to be an afternoon excursion. The pilot decided to leave the harbor, to go out into the open ocean, he wanted to show his passengers the view of the city from farther out. It is beautiful from a distance, but more dangerous. It was supposed to be only slightly more dangerous. Several of the surviving passengers had distance viewers, to use for looking at the cityscape, but, unfortunately, no one had a sphere, so there are no pictures, just reports. Most of the passengers were looking at the city, but at least one of the crew was looking out to sea, and reported an unusually large sea creature, or monster, fairly close to the ship. It didn't attack, but it was swimming near by, and when it dove under the water, the wake swamped the small craft, so it didn't just capsize, it also broke apart. My mother was struck in the head by a piece of flotsam, and lost consciousness. She sank. My father tried to save her. They both drowned."

Sin, he cursed to himself.

Mercy, focused on the past, didn't realize that her hands were white as she gripped the mug, or that her eyes were huge, lost, and that tears were streaming down her face. Auron put his own cup down, and gently removed hers from her hands. Then he pulled her, unresisting, into his arms. He stroked her head and back soothingly as she continued to speak.

"I was so alone. I was an only child, and I was a little weird, I guess." She sniffled, rubbing her eyes with her hands. She became aware of her position, and tried to get a little more comfortable, stealing one of her arms around his waist, settling her head against his chest. "Actually, I was a lot weird. Too sharp, too smart, too much of a smart-ass. Too much of a loner. Into my music, the studies I enjoyed, skating by on the ones I didn't. Then, it was like I was some kind of bad luck or something. Kids think they're immortal. And they don't like change, not really. I was a constant reminder that, well, maybe they weren't immortal, or that things could change in ways they weren't expecting." She stopped to catch her breath, then she plunged on. "I wasn't supposed to be serious about the music, not really. My parents paid for the lessons, but they always considered it a hobby, I guess. After my folks died, it was a solace, and an escape."

Her gaze turned inward, and filled with fear. "But if my parents hadn't died, if I hadn't been so alone, I might not have gone to that musicians' meet, and I wouldn't have met Daf that day. I don't know if he would have found anyone else there he could have turned to. I don't know what would have happened to him." With each sentence, her fist drummed on his breastplate. She couldn't hurt him this way, but he was worried about her. Her eyes were black pools. She was speaking from the depths of a nightmare, an old one that she had carried alone, a long, long time. He let her go on. It was better for her to get it out of her system. "Sooner or later, I think his dad would have killed him, maybe not on purpose, but Daf would have been just as dead. Auron, what if I hadn't been there that day?" She was shaking now, shivering in shock and reaction. She threw her arms around him, but she couldn't get close enough to get warm. He held her as close as he could, but he could tell that it wasn't working, even her teeth were chattering, no matter how much he stroked her back, murmured in her ear. The emotional storm had become a physical reaction, and he couldn't seem to warm her enough to ease the chill in her heart.

His armor was in the way. One-handed, he released the clips at his sides, and held her away just long enough to raise the molded leather piece over his head. He drew her back against him as it fell to the floor behind the sofa. He held her close, and her shuddering began to ease as she settled against his body, her arms around his waist, her head against his shoulder, finally able to drink in enough of his body's heat. She felt so good in his arms. As he ran his hands down her back, feeling the lithe muscles from her shoulders to her waist, he had to remind himself that what she needed now was comfort. He was too aware of the fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the tightness in his groin. It had been too many years since he had held a woman close this way, or even wanted to. He looked down at her face. He continued to hold her, as she cried herself out. It took him a long time to realize that she had fallen asleep. He thought he ought to be insulted, but he discovered that he was touched by her trust. She must feel safe. He reached out with his fingertips, and snagged his coat from the other end of the couch. He leaned back, settling her into a more comfortable position against his chest. Then, he pulled the coat over them both, propped his feet on the table, and let himself drift into sleep.

She woke a couple of hours later, because her pillow wasn't as soft as usual, and in sleep, she couldn't quite figure out why. Dreamily, she tried to press her face even more deeply into Auron's shoulder and straighten her legs, but when her knees bumped into the back of the couch, she woke up completely. The starlight from the windows was sufficient to allow her to study his face. In sleep, he looked less severe, the frown lines that were starting to form smoothed away in repose. He barely looked the thirty years he claimed. The planes of his face were beautifully sculpted, the scar merely giving him a rakish air. I want to kiss him, taste him. He's asleep, he'll never know. The longer she stared, the more she was tempted. She didn't notice the glitter of his barely open eye. He was awake, and watching her. She licked her lips, and placed her hands on his shoulders. At last, she leaned in, whispered, "Wake up, sweetheart", and gently pressed her lips to his. Her voice and her touch were so soft, it was clear she did not intend to wake him yet, but she had not bargained on his already being awake. She hadn't noticed that every time she had shifted position, his arms had stayed clasped around her, not likely if he'd still been asleep.

When her lips touched his, fire lanced through them both, so fast, it was almost like pain. It burned through the normal, tentative first steps, and they were in the midst of a firestorm. Their mouths were fused together, tongues trying to taste everything, all at once. He turned her so that she sprawled across his lap; it was easier for him to hold her, her breasts against his chest. The sensation seared through them both. She was glad of the impulse that had made him shed the last of his armor. The thin shirt that he wore under it was no barrier to her fingers. She could feel taut muscles of his back shift under her hands as he moved. She explored his back, and then the sculpted planes of his chest and they continued to kiss and caress. His fingers traced the long curve of her spine, down her back, then his palms grazed along her sides. Part of her was trying to think this is too fast while the rest was purring that feels so good about kisses that licked down her neck and along her shoulder, or about the fingertips that traced the low neck of her shirt, and left a trail of fire over the edge of her breasts. She wanted more. His mouth came back to hers, and she sucked on his lower lip when he kissed her. He groaned. He wanted to carry her to bed. Now. Hell, this couch is big enough … That half-familiar voice whispered again, "It will be sweeter if you wait." Auron was in no mood to listen to it. It would be very painful to listen. He was losing himself in her, and he didn't want to stop now. She brought her hands up to his face, and then she kissed him, long and deep. She was losing control, fast. It was all too fast, too soon, she thought again. Slow down, take a deep breath. She felt light-headed. Slowly, reluctantly, she started to slow the pace. He let her lead him out of the fire, gently, gradually. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe I am listening to that voice, after all. Maybe I am also out of my mind, he thought to himself.

A long time later, they were just holding each other again, but her whole body still thrummed with desire, and he was hard as stone. It would take next to nothing to start the fire again. Her body was ready, eager, but her heart was much less certain. If they waited until they knew each other better, they might have something real. One-night stands just left her feeling even lonelier in the morning. They weren't worth it any more. She hoped she could make him understand, or at least stall the man a little. She had a feeling they didn't need much time, just a little bit.
"Auron?"
"Mmm?" he murmured. He was nibbling on her neck again. She curled into his embrace, giving herself to the sensation. He kissed her again, taking a long time about it, letting the fire build up slowly this time. Unthinking, she started to pull his t-shirt up. When her hand found the bare skin at his waist, she thought again, too soon, too fast, not now, not yet, damn, and set her arms around his neck, where they would hopefully cause less trouble. She opened her eyes, looked into his with, she hoped, a serious expression on her face. He got enough of his brain working to focus on her face and hold his hands still, but it was, well, difficult. Be straight about this, she thought to herself, you've only got about one chance.

Out loud, "Auron, if we're ever going to be lovers, I want to know you a little better than I do now, and I sure as hell want more time than is left of this night. A lot more," she said with a grin. Then her eyes roamed over his face, seriously now, trying to gauge his reaction. In spite of the momentary grin, this was no game she was playing, but many men would have taken it as one. Auron saw she was serious, and again he heard that voice in the recesses of his mind, "It will be sweeter if you wait." Mercy's small store of patience reached its limit. "Is this okay?" she questioned.

His hand cupped her cheek. "Difficult, but bearable." Then he grinned at her in return. "Once more before I leave?" He had promised, but some gleam in his eye…She nodded, then swallowed hard past a sudden lump in her throat. What is he thinking?

Just because I promised to wait, doesn't mean I can't try to convince her to change her mind, he thought, as he kissed her deeply, over and over again. His lips licked their way from her mouth down her neck to her collarbone, and back up again. She was on fire, her arms around him, rubbing herself against him. Her breasts felt swollen; her nipples ached for him to touch them. His hand traced the deep v of her shirt, dipped inside to cup the swell of one breast. Her back arched as she pressed herself into his palm, the generous globe overflowing his hand. He teased the peak with his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned into his mouth as he kissed her. This wasn't enough for either of them, they both wanted more. He kept hearing that voice, "It will be sweeter if you wait." Damn!

He had promised, and he always kept his promises. I have a very wicked idea, but I don't want to go too far, tonight. She got up on her knees, and put her hands on his shoulders, then shifted position so that her knees were on either side of his thighs, straddling him, flagrantly rubbing herself the full length of him. His head fell back against the couch. This is torture. I promised to wait…does she have to punish me like this? He wanted, no needed to punish her the same way, and make sure she continued as long as possible. He brought her head down for a slow, lingering kiss, then turned his attention to her breasts. The neck of her shirt gaped open now. His hand opened it further, as he kissed, licked, and nibbled his way down her neck, along the sensitive tops of her breasts to the taut nipples. Her hips rocked in response. He kept his other hand low on her backside, pressing her hips into his groin. If she was going to torture him, he was going to enjoy every inch of it. He suckled first one breast, and then the other. Her whole body screamed for her to take him to bed, to tell him she'd changed her mind about waiting. It feels too good...he feels too good…why did I want to stop him? Too soon…She wrapped his ponytail around her hand and dragged his head up, poured herself into a searing kiss that left them both breathless.

She had nearly let go of all restraint, temporarily. In the sweet haze of sensation, some rational thought was trying to break through. If we're not going any further tonight, we need to stop soon, or we'll both die or something. But there are a lot worse ways to go.

His roaming hand found the bow at the back of her shirt. And stilled. If he pulled it, he didn't think he would be able to stop. And he had promised. "It will be sweeter if you wait," the voice said. Damn it all to hell, Auron growled back, but in the dark of his mind. More to the point, he would not break his word to her, so they needed to slow down again, and he would have to go…very, very soon. If this were to start yet another time tonight…

Thankfully, they were of the same mind, as it was more difficult to step back than before. Eventually they ended as they had begun, with Mercy across Auron's lap, her head pillowed on his shoulder. With the adrenaline fading, she yawned sleepily, and he realized that it was time for him to leave.

They ended the evening, now nearly morning, almost where it should have begun. She unlocked the door for him to go and they held each other, gently this time. She looked up into his face. He leaned down to kiss her, a soft, lingering kiss, trying not to re-kindle the fire between them. Auron smiled down at her. "I will see you later this evening. Good night, my lady."
A small grin crossed her face. "Good morning, Auron. See you later." She closed the door, undressed and fell into bed, and sleep.

Auron paced through the city, attempted to understand what was happening to him, and failed. His mind returned to the story she had told him, about her parents. Her life, even in Zanarkand, had also been touched by Sin.
Her earlier question kept him awake. What do I need?

…Spira…Macalania Woods

Alone in Spira, in the strange light that filtered through the trees of the Macalania Woods, he was all too aware of the answer. Not that it mattered anymore.

End Chapter Seven